


apples: the giving trees of kazakhstan

by pleasant_surprise



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Fluffy, I hope you like it, M/M, a story of growing up, bittersweet actually, told through the seasons of yuris life, very sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 03:34:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10711338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleasant_surprise/pseuds/pleasant_surprise
Summary: This is the story of Yuri and Otabek, told through seasons and ages, trees and apples.





	apples: the giving trees of kazakhstan

**Author's Note:**

> Highly suggest listening to "Intertwined" by dodie while reading this.

In the autumn of his tenth year, there was a boy he shared apples with.

They were in a ballet class together. The boy was not as good as him, but Yuri still felt a certain way when around him. He felt like he was sitting under the shade of a strong tree that would protect him from anything and everything.

And the apples were amazing. They were the best he had ever tasted.

“Where do you get your apples from?” Yuri had asked him one day, after practice, as they walked to the playground nearby.

“My parents send them from Kazakhstan. From my home in Almaty. There are all kinds of apples there,” the boy had answered him, handing Yuri another apple slice.

“Kazakhstan,” Yuri repeated thoughtfully. The other boy’s eyes sparkled, like hearing Yuri say the name of his homeland had been something he had been missing his entire life.

“It’s beautiful at home. I live right by an old abandoned apple orchard, and my little sister and I play there all the time, and we eat apples all day, and take care of some of the trees there,” Otabek explained, excited to share some of himself with the boy.

“Otabek, will you take me with you, one day?” Yuri asked, slipping his free hand into Otabek’s. Both of their cheeks were dusted pink, the autumn air nipping at their faces, and their closeness making them flush with exhilaration.

* * *

The summer of his thirteenth year, Yuri saw a boy who made him feel a certain way. Like he was trying to remember something, but like he already knew what it was in the back of his mind. And he found himself thinking about apples. The most delicious apples he had ever tasted.

And the boy looked back at Yuri like he was trying to help Yuri remember. 

“Yuri, let’s go,” Yakov chided him, before turning to ream Victor out again. Yuri tore his eyes away from the quiet boy that reminded him of apples and comfortable silences, and walked back to join his coach. 

He struggled to remember, but forgot just as he had the time before.

* * *

The winter of his fifteenth year, he remembered.

He remembered when Otabek told him he had the eyes of a soldier, because suddenly those days they spent studying each other intently came back to Yuri.

He remembered when he held fast to Otabek on his motorcycle, because he felt like he was protected by a stoic, strong tree.

He remembered when Otabek’s voice was the only thing he heard when he was on the ice, because it was just like when they encouraged each other in ballet, and each other’s approval was the only thing that mattered.

He remembered when he snuck off to watch Otabek perform, and the mischievous nature of their relationship returned.

He remembered when Otabek’s hands lingered on his hips a second too long after his exhibition skate ended, because  _ there it was _ .

There was the part of their relationship they had never found. And here it was.

Remembered.

* * *

The spring of his seventeenth year, Otabek had kissed him under his favorite apple tree. 

It was Yuri’s first kiss.

They had been walking through the abandoned apple orchard, their fingers entwined, their cheeks pink. The wind blew the warmth of summer onto them, and it blew the petals and scents of apple blossoms. Otabek led him to his favorite tree, and picked a flower for Yuri, placing it in his hair.

“You’re such a sap,” Yuri whispered, his fierce green eyes softening for Otabek, his hand reaching up to trace Otabek’s features.

And suddenly, Yuri’s back was against the tree, and Otabek’s lips were on his. Yuri’s fingers found their way to Otabek’s hair, and they stayed there until the two were left breathless.

Before leaving Kazakhstan, Yuri bought an apple flavored lip balm. It was cheap, and made his lips taste sickeningly sweet, but he loved to wear it, because it reminded him of his first kiss with the boy from Almaty.

* * *

 

The autumn of his twenty-first year, Yuri twisted his ankle in the abandoned apple orchard. He had been running from Otabek, playing like a child, and had tripped on a windfallen apple. Otabek had carried him to his house, Yuri’s long limbs swinging gently in his arms. 

The sunset cast a beautiful golden light over Yuri, and Otabek found himself falling madly, deeply in love with the boy whom he had shared apples with all those years ago.

That night, Otabek kissed every part of Yuri’s body, and Yuri did the same to his.

And they lay in Otabek’s bed, falling asleep to the sound of each other’s breathing and the feeling of safety they found in each other.

* * *

The winter of  Yuri’s twenty-fifth year, Otabek proposed under their favorite tree, the one they had carved their initials into after their first kiss.

Otabek had put the ring on the bare branch just above Yuri’s head, and as he reached up to inspect the metallic glint above him that reflected the wintry morning sun, Otabek knelt to the ground, his heart pounding.

“Beka…” Yuri managed to choke out, his breath a puff of fog in front of him.

“Yura… you wanted me to take you with me, to Kazakhstan, all those years ago. But, can I take you with me, everywhere?” Otabek’s voice wavered, his knee beginning to get wet from the snow.

“Please do,” Yuri laughed. Otabek rose and slipped the ring onto Yuri’s finger.

That night, they baked an apple pie to celebrate.

* * *

The summer of Yuri’s twenty-seventh year, he and Otabek moved their home to the apple orchard, where it had always belonged.

Otabek had carried Yuri over the threshhold of their new home, and Yuri was caught completely by surprise.

“You bought… the apple orchard,” Yuri stuttered, wandering around the old farmhouse.

“Do you not like it?” Otabek panicked.

“I love it,” Yuri smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to his new husband’s lips.

That night, they ate apples from their apple orchard as a midnight snack.

* * *

The autumn of his thirty-fourth year, Yuri had run into the orchard once more.

Except this time he was sobbing, and it was a dark, cold night, spattered with heavy raindrops.

He ran until he found his favorite tree and he sat under it, weeping about his grandfather’s death. Crying because he hadn’t been there. And Otabek had found him soon after, worry painted across his soaked face because he had run out to find Yuri after he was absent from their bed.

And Otabek held him closely, and made him feel safer than any tree. 

And their soaked bodies clung together, desperate, and feeling so alone by themselves, searching for something.

* * *

 

The spring of his forty-fifth year, Yuri stared at the charred remains of his and Otabek’s favorite tree. A recent thunderstorm had struck just this tree.

Otabek stood behind Yuri, his hands on Yuri’s shoulders, but he could feel Otabek’s weight sagging. He would be lying if he didn’t feel the same way.

Their sixth application for an adoption had fallen through. And this time, they really thought they would finally complete their family. Otabek had just finished painting the nursery yesterday. Yuri tried his hardest not to hate the biological parents for coldfeet. But after six times, it was just  _ so hard _ .

“Yura… what are we going to do? I don’t think I can go through the process again,” Otabek’s voice cracked. Yuri grabbed his husband’s hand and kissed it gently.

“We’ll move on. Let’s start something new,” Yuri smiled, the tears falling down his cheeks betraying him. He turned back around, wiping the offending tears away. He inhaled, the scent of apple blossoms filling the air. He walked over to a nearby tree and put one in his hair that was peppered with grays. Otabek smiled weakly.

“Yes. Let’s tear out this tree. Start a new part of our lives,” Otabek sniffed, extending his hand for Yuri. Yuri took it.

They strolled through the orchard, discussing their plans to bring new life to it.

* * *

The summer of his sixty-eighth year, Yuri and Otabek helped Victor and Yuuri renew their vows in their orchard. 

It was a beautiful affair. Children and dogs ran about, picking apples and showing them off to their parents, and music floated through the area, making everything a picturesque scene.

“This isn’t the kind of family I was expecting,” Yuri laughed, watching the merriment dreamily.

“It’s perfect, though,” Otabek smiled, tucking Yuri’s hair behind his ear.

“It is.”

Everyone there got to taste the wonderful apples of Kazakhstan that night.

* * *

The autumn of his seventy-ninth year, Otabek began to forget.

And Yuri’s life began to end.

* * *

The spring of Yuuri’s eighty-sixth year, he planted a sapling where the old tree had once stood. Every day, he made the trek into the orchard, and he watched the tree grow above his husband.

There was a kitten who would accompany him every morning in his salutations, whom he affectionately called Alma.

“My little Alma, do you wait for someone here?” Yuri asked, scratching the cat behind her ears. The cat mewed in response, crawling into his lap.

“I do too. I’m waiting for a boy to share his apples with me. He’s going to take me with him to his home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, come scream at me on tumblr about it... if you want, I guess? 
> 
> I hope you liked it!
> 
> Bye now!


End file.
